How Friends Should have Ended
by KBaileyBooks
Summary: This is a work of fan fiction that began by a brilliant thread on Twitter by @kaneandgriffin called "In Defense of Rachel and Joey: A Thread" You can begin the thread here /kaneandgriffin/status/894997786730520576 I said I should write a fan fic in response, well here it is.


The Real Ending of Friends

This is a work of fan fiction that began by a brilliant thread on Twitter by kaneandgriffin called "In Defense of Rachel and Joey: A Thread" You can begin the thread here /kaneandgriffin/status/894997786730520576

On a whim, like most tweets, I said I should write a fan fiction that would stand forever as the real ending to Friends, in my mind at least. Many people responded that they were dying to read it, so out of mercy for their poor, tortured, disappointed in Ross souls, I present this for your enjoyment.

As a side note. I do write middle grade and young teen adventure stories for a living. So if you have any young teens in your circle, please check out my website at .com

Thank you,

Kristin Bailey

A jolt of turbulence shook Rachel awake. Her breath caught in her throat as she held on to little Emma, still sleeping in her arms. Through the fog of exhaustion, she sorted through strange images in head, a lingering dream about a duckling and a chick, a broken Foosball table, and Ross shouting something at his answering machine. Vaguely she could hear a sound, like a recording of a sitcom audience, ringing in her ears.

It was interrupted by a ping, and a cold announcement that they were on final approach to Paris.

"This is it, sweetie," Rachel whispered as she kissed her daughter on the top of her soft head. "A new life for us."

Her new job was waiting. A new life was waiting. But no one else was.

She thought back on the last time she had run from her future, ending up in a coffee shop in her wedding dress. She didn't realize that day that she had also run into a circle of friends. Brushing away a tear, she thought back on years of memories that had brought her to this place. Laughter, love, pain, disappointment, and comradery. She wasn't expecting them, but they came to her anyway.

Now she didn't know what to expect, but as she looked out the tiny oval of a window and saw the puffy clouds grow larger beneath the wing of the plane, the future felt very empty.

"We have to stick together," she said to little Emma, and wondered if she hadn't made a mistake. Maybe she should have gotten off the plane. Maybe she should have run from this, because this was frightening. And she no longer had any soft place to fall.

Ross would have been there, howling in his apartment like a wounded hound. He said he loved her, but that final confession felt like a noose, one he used deliberately. She could have gone to him. He would have taken her in, and then her future would be what? How many times would she hear, "WE WERE ON A BREAK!" shouted at her in anger, like the problem wasn't what he had done, but her reaction to it. How long would it take him to fall into someone's bed now? More than twenty-four hours this time?

And yet she longed for a soft place to fall again. A cozy coffee shop filled with friends. Her friends wouldn't be there to catch her this time. Not the way they had in that coffee shop. Not the way Joey had when she needed a place, and he offered her his.

Joey.

She felt a stinging in her eyes, and used the edge of Emma's blanket to push back her tears. She was going to miss him. Pheobe, Monica, Chandler, their new family, Joey's plays. She was going to miss all of it. But this was the right thing to do. She knew it. They knew it. They wanted this for her, she wanted this for her.

It was just hard to feel all alone when her life had been filled with people for so long.

She had pulled herself up from nothing once. She could do this, too.

The plane landed in Paris. The hustle of people around her bumped and pushed past Emma's diaper bag and her carryon. Her arms were too full, loaded down with her child and luggage, as she struggled through customs.

It all came crashing down as she took her first steps into Paris, the diaper bag slipping from her shoulder and knocking into her heavy suitcase. It tumbled off its wheels and fell to the floor. She bent down to right it, but a man's hand had reached it first. "I'm sorry, I just… I have it," she stammered, forgetting that she should be speaking French.

"It's all right," a familiar voice said in English. "I got this."

Her heart stopped completely, then raced as she slowly looked up. Then her heart stopped again as she looked into a sweet, handsome, and familiar face.

"Joey?" she said, her voice high and choked with emotion.

"How YOU doin'?" he responded with a playful smile, bringing forward a random bunch of colorful flowers wrapped in tissue. And her heart felt like it would burst. "Hey little buddy," he said to Emma, who squealed and reached out to him.

Rachel fell into his arms, and he wrapped her and Emma in an enormous hug. The kind that hid nothing, demanded nothing, just surrounded her in warmth.

Finally she was able to stammer. "What are you doing here?"

"Picking up your suitcase," he said, hauling it back up onto its wheels. He took the diaper bag too, slinging it over his shoulder without ego or shame.

"But New York! Your play?" she felt shaky as she fell into step beside him, her heart so full it felt as if it would burst from her chest. "You don't even speak French."

"Aw Cointrare," he said, clearly proud of himself.

They could work on that. Tears swelled in her eyes again. "Why are you here?"

"I figured out what role I wanted to play," he said. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small black box.

Rachel brought her hands to her mouth, stunned and yet thrilled. She remembered another moment, when she had seen him with a little box in his hand. Horrible confusion had followed, but now, this time, she could give him an answer, one she had given him before.

"Yes?" she said with the same tentative uncertainty, and he let out a joyful shout. Then wrapped her in his arms again.

"I love you, Rachel," he said, kissing Emma's forehead, then brushing his thumb over Rachel's cheek. "You're good for me."

"You're good for me too," she said as she leaned forward and kissed him to the sound of a cheering audience.

They fell into step side by side, hand in hand. "Do you think Paris has coffee?" Joey asked.

"Um, yeah." Rachel said with laughter in her heart. "I think they do."


End file.
